


Pendulum

by leftfoottrapped (miikkaa_xx)



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ, EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, OT4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-09
Updated: 2014-01-09
Packaged: 2018-01-08 02:11:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1127154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miikkaa_xx/pseuds/leftfoottrapped
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As both TVXQ and EXO prepare for the new year, Chen and Changmin find common ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pendulum

**Author's Note:**

> All OT4 fics listed in order [here](http://leftfoottrapped.tumblr.com/post/66241771482/the-ot4verse-masterpost).
> 
> This fic parallels [Swords and Cameras](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1119868) and references [the EXO/TVXQ Inkigayo meeting](http://leftfoottrapped.tumblr.com/post/72414434901/akaripika-cr-naver-exo-at-dbsks-inkigayo).
> 
>  **warnings:** language, open relationship between the OT4 (Yunho/Suho/Changmin/Chen), explicit sex, unbeta'd.

-

‘I get uncomfortable when people compliment my singing,’ Jongdae says honestly to Yixing, hyperaware of the camera aimed at his face, and keeps his eyes on his food. ‘I think I still have a lot to learn.’

When Jongdae flicks his gaze upwards, the camera has now turned towards Minseok and Luhan, and he can feel the long line of comforting warmth Yixing presses against his side as they sit and eat. It’s not a funny answer, nor a memorable one, and Jongdae idly wonders if it’ll get cut out by the time the episode airs, but for now he puts it out of his head and listens to the others.

-

Of all the bullshit that spewed out of his mouth on recording night, Jongdae is actually affronted that his one honest slip-up _does_ make it to airing as he sits beside Joonmyeon to watch the episode in EXO K’s dorms.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jongin cringe when the group gathers on screen and erupts in a bubbly ‘EXO Showtime!’ before there is a perfectly timed commercial break. Joonmyeon lets out a long breath of relief – ‘okay, so far, so good.’

‘Just because you’re not there physically supervising them doesn’t mean they’ll always fuck up,’ replies Jongdae quietly into his ear, and catches the thankful smile curved on Joonmyeon’s mouth.

The other members have a running commentary going on but Jongdae tunes them out when he sees his own face on screen and the way his expression sobers up when he talks of both singing and dancing to the cameraman.

He doesn’t realize he’s tense until Joonmyeon curls his fingers into Jongdae’s sleeve in reassurance, keeping him steady until the episode ends.

Afterwards, Joonmyeon catches him with the dishes in the kitchen, bumping hips gently as Jongdae starts the water in the sink. ‘Apparently Yunho-hyung and Changmin-hyung watched it too.’

‘He send you any advice?’

Joonmyeon shakes his head, ‘just kept asking where my screentime went.’ He laughs, and Jongdae instinctively hooks arms with Joonmyeon to keep him there as he washes the bowls.

‘Left my phone back in my room,’ Jongdae offers in explanation when Joonmyeon shoots him an expectant look. As if Changmin-hyung texts him all the time (and he does, but Jongdae’s not going to admit to that) and tonight should be no different. The answer quells any further questions, and Jongdae hums from his throat – pleased when Joonmyeon stays standing beside him, rinsing the dishes as Jongdae soaps them.

-

 _You did well_ , is all it reads. Jongdae wonders if he should be disappointed. He wants to look at Joonmyeon’s phone and read what Yunho must have left him – how the words must pour out of the message box with warmth and sincerity.

It’s unfair to compare Yunho to Changmin, of course. So Jongdae takes it as it is with a quick _thank you_ before heading to bed.

-

It’s hard to schedule the next meet-up when TVXQ is preparing for their tenth anniversary comeback – which, in itself, is amazing and epic and something he knows Joonmyeon dreams about for EXO, so they keep putting it off.

Instead, Jongdae hangs around with Yixing and Luhan around the vocal practice rooms, reading hanja and pinyin and hangul on the papers that list the lyrics for their next song that SM has drafted for them. Eventually, the rest of EXO M will show up and some SM staff would wander in.

‘Have you practiced?’ asks one of the studio recorders, and soon Jongdae is hustled behind a booth with his paper and pencil; his voice crooning out what he hopes are the right tones.

-

It turns out they’re not. Yixing stays behind and corrects him as much as he can, while the rest of the band and staff get a lunch break. ‘I’ll figure it out,’ assures Jongdae, stubborn, and shoos Yixing away from the room before collapsing on the couch, his phone vibrating in his pocket.

 _What’re you up to?_ reads Changmin’s text.

 _Practicing in the studio,_ replies Jongdae. _You would think two years of this would make it easier_.

There’s no reply for several minutes so Jongdae returns back to the song and tries to match the words with his mouth. Talking in Mandarin is hard enough, but singing in it makes his tongue feel like a dead weight in his mouth.

He hears the studio door open and quickly stands up, ready for the scolding by the staff from their return, except Changmin – with his soft-seeming, dyed hair and made-up face – steps inside instead.

‘Hey,’ he greets with a twist of his mouth that Jongdae can remember against his skin. ‘Aren’t you supposed to be getting lunch?’

‘I’ll eat after I’m done with this,’ replies Jongdae, waving the lyrics in his hand. ‘I just need to figure out a few things, don’t worry about it.’

‘I’m not worr – ’ starts Changmin before his jaw clicks shut. Jongdae smiles up at him, teasing.

‘Want to try?’

‘What – read hanja?’

‘There’s hangul and pinyin too,’ he says, goading Changmin, who frowns when he walks over to the small couch in the studio, an arm around Jongdae’s waist to drag him along.

It’s more than Jongdae has had in weeks – this press against the long line of Changmin’s torso as he holds the lyric sheet to his face, eyes flicking over the words and his mouth following silently. The arm is still curled loosely around Jongdae’s waist, so Jongdae slides his hand along Changmin’s fingers in askance. Changmin doesn’t stop reading when he tangles their fingers together almost immediately.

‘You can give up now, it’s fine,’ says Jongdae after a minute. He reaches up with his free hand and tugs the paper away, laying it on his lap. ‘I’ll get it.’

‘It doesn’t – ’ Changmin hesitates, his voice soft. ‘It doesn’t get easier.’

Jongdae looks up at him, ‘what do you mean?’

‘I’ve been singing in Japanese for – what – six years? More?’ Changmin levels him with a gaze, all hyung and mentor and competitor. ‘It doesn’t get easier, but it doesn’t get harder, and eventually – ’ He shrugs. ‘Eventually, you’ll figure out the sounds and say them all in the right order, even while singing live, because this is what you were meant to do.’

‘Meant to do?’ asks Jongdae, mostly to tease, but Changmin meets him head-on.

‘Yes,’ he replies, brutally honest. ‘You were meant to sing. Isn’t that why you’re here?’

The question startles Jongdae, so he bristles. ‘Of course, it’s just – ’ He cuts off, thoughts in a disarray. It’s the way he _wants_ to say half the things in his head in interviews, he _wants_ to match Luhan’s teasing with his own, he _wants_ to keep up with Yixing and Yifan when they laugh together, he _wants_ to comfort Tao with something more than his limited vocabulary. He _wants_ so many things, and sometimes he questions whether being in this group was the right decision, even if he’s always proud when he gets a sentence right or sings their songs flawlessly along with the rest of them as they practice in the studios.

‘You’ll get it,’ murmurs Changmin into his hair. ‘I got it, didn’t I?’

And it should be embarrassing that the idol he respects and wants to follow has to comfort him like this. It makes him feel weak and young, uncomfortable in his skin, so that the image of Changmin’s fingers entangled in his own seems strange. ‘Each song makes me feel like a fuckin’ rookie,’ he admits in a rasp, emotions clogging in his throat. ‘But it’s going to be three years soon and I’m not.’

‘You’re not,’ agrees Changmin in a pleasant hum as he squeezes Jongdae’s fingers once. ‘You’re better.’

The compliment sears down his spine and makes Jongdae jerk his head towards his paper, unable to even look at Changmin. ‘The staff will come back soon,’ he replies instead, ‘and you have a comeback, hyung, time to go.’

‘Fuck,’ laughs out Changmin, his voice breathy and amused as he leans back. ‘A hoobae can’t scold me.’

Jongdae rolls his eyes, but the tension seeps away just for a moment, enough for him to stand up and fit himself between Changmin’s legs as he leans down for a quick kiss. Changmin meets him halfway, pushing himself upwards and carding his long fingers through Jongdae’s hair at his nape, mouth warm and pliant and wet.

It’s more than Jongdae has had in a while, so he can’t stifle the whimper that escapes his mouth when Changmin flicks his tongue against Jongdae’s top lip, a fleeting touch. At the sound, Changmin pulls away, a smug half-smile on his mouth, ‘Want me already?’

‘Don’t push it,’ replies Jongdae, pulling away entirely, but some of the tension is gone from his shoulders now. It takes an entire minute to hustle Changmin out of the studio, who is having too much fun stroking Jongdae’s skin and making him shiver and eyelashes flutter, but eventually Jongdae is alone again.

When he looks at the hanja, he reads the first line, then the next, and begins to sing once more.

-

A few weeks later, Jongdae stays behind again, a third lyric sheet in his hands. It’s nine pm, which means Yifan is itching for dinner and to go home, so Jongdae hands him over a few thousand won to buy him a meal and let the rest of the band go back to the dorms.

With the lights turned on, everything is stark and cold in the room. Jongdae switches the record button before shuffling into the booth and hooking on his headphones, the first lines of the song at the edges of his tongue.

He records it, goes out of the booth to listen to the playback and compare it to the way Luhan and Yixing sing out the same lines, trying to figure out if his voice and theirs match.

A second recording. A third. More notes on his sheet – ticks and circles and marks, his own advice, the crack of Luhan’s voice and whether he should imitate it, how high he should go, the best place for adlibs. It’s a process.

It’s ten pm when Changmin opens the door and stands, watching, from behind the plexiglass window. Jongdae meets his gaze, feels his heart thud in surprise, before he’s slipping into performance mode, pushing his shoulders back and crooning out the Mandarin out as if he’s been doing this all his life. Like Yixing, like Luhan.

The song ends and Changmin flicks the recording off before the music can loop again. He’s still watching, waiting, his expression smoothed out to appraising.

‘Did you like it?’ says Jongdae once he steps out, then coughs at his dry mouth. Changmin makes a soft noise in the back of his throat and pulls out a water bottle from a backpack hanging off his arm.

Grateful, Jongdae tips it back and empties it in a long swallow. It sates the gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach for a little bit as well. When he looks back after putting down the bottle, Changmin’s eyes are bright and his hands are sliding up Jongdae’s sides, causing him to suck in a sharp breath, lust pooling into his belly.

‘Hyung,’ says Jongdae, except he’s not sure if it’s a rejection or acceptance.

‘If you’re like that with a bottle,’ murmurs Changmin into his ear, hands skimming over the curve of Jongdae’s spine, ‘what’s your mouth like around a dick, hm?’

‘Fuck,’ he replies in an involuntary gasp, then tries to squirm away. Changmin blinks and lets go, hands falling to his sides. ‘Not – hyung, not here,’ says Jongdae, ‘I’ll suck your dick in a janitor’s closet, but not here.’

Changmin glances around and seems to understand. Jongdae’s spent too much time here, had too many memories of trial and error and rejection and satisfaction to smear it over with sex. Instead, Changmin brings up his hands again and lays them gently against the skin of Jongdae’s neck, pressing down and back upwards to massage his vocal cords.

‘Can’t sing if you’re dehydrated,’ he quips, his thumb slipping over Jongdae’s adam’s apple gently before pressing back down against the skin.

‘I know,’ says Jongdae quietly. ‘I know all of it.’

Changmin seems to struggle with himself to give a real reply, a tangible answer, and Jongdae feels guilt twinge at him. He closes his eyes, tipping his head back, exposing his throat for Changmin’s fingers, keeping silent.

‘Yunho told me about your debut story. A little from Joonmyeon too,’ starts Changmin, his voice edging on uncertain, so Jongdae moans softly and nods, encourages him. ‘Apparently, EXO wouldn’t have debuted without you.’

Jongdae stills and opens his eyes, ‘is that supposed to make me feel better?’

‘I get it,’ replies the other flatly, pushing his way past Jongdae’s barriers of bared teeth and snark. ‘You’re achieving for perfection, but you can relax too. It’s not a crime.’

‘It’s not – it’s,’ Jongdae swallows around the ball in his throat. ‘Joonmyeon-hyung takes care of eleven people. I’m not going to add to that weight.’

‘So you’re going to take his?’

‘By being perfect.’

Changmin ducks his head and Jongdae doesn’t even think when he rises up to meet him for the kiss. Jongdae feels the slip of tongue and how Changmin can’t speak, but he can focus and channel his understanding and empathy down Jongdae’s throat. He thinks he likes this part of Changmin best – how his fingers and tongue talk for him when the words clutter his mouth.

They part at the first sound of footsteps down the hall. Changmin seems to refuse to retract his hands from Jongdae’s neck, still intently massaging his vocal cords, soothing and repetitive, enough to lull Jongdae again so that his lust seeps away along with his tension.

The steps stop and the studio door opens. Jongdae opens his eyes, turning around. Before he can, he feels the warm slip of arms around his waist and Yixing greeting him with a smile, ‘Chenchen, come home.’ With a blink, Yixing sees Changmin and steps away, bowing. ‘Changmin-sunbae.’

‘Yixing,’ nods Changmin, his hands dropping away. ‘I’ll see you later.’

‘Yes.’ Jongdae watches as Changmin hooks his backpack around his shoulder and leaves, before rubbing his eyes and smiling sleepily at Yixing. ‘Let’s go home.’

-

The days are edged with anticipation within SM as TVXQ gets closer and closer to New Year’s. Final recordings are done, outfits fitted and refitted just in case, sets built, torn down, built again, and the staff in a hurry to figure out what final details needed to be set out.

That still doesn’t mean EXO gets any breaks, and Jongdae sticks close to Joonmyeon’s side as new choreography is introduced and their band is slated in for performances of older songs as well as interviews and shows. Can’t become irrelevant before the New Year.

Changmin’s texts come less often but full to the brim nonetheless, as if making up for their infrequency. _They’re bribing us with meat again to make us work harder, which would’ve worked when we couldn’t afford it five years ago. Still, free food is free food in exchange to sing for two extra hours in falsetto. Can’t say I’m sorry for hogging your favourite vocal studio though; maybe I should mess it up before I leave._

Jongdae rolls his eyes after sending a short _see what happens if you do_ and pockets his phone, glancing at Joonmyeon. He’s busy scanning over the new schedule sheet and imputing alarms into his own phone. Surreptitiously, Jongdae peeks over at the beginning times and programs little reminders for himself: _wake Suho up by 5:30am; ask him about food after the variety show; learn the choreo by at least this date._

Joonmyeon shoots him a grateful look and Jongdae sidles up close, pressing their sides together, unwilling to let go. ‘Just till the New Year, hyung, we’ll make it.’

‘I know,’ replies Joonmyeon but he sounds unconvinced.

-

 _Sometimes I don’t know if I’m being annoying or helpful_ , sends Jongdae at one in the morning, too tired to realize how cryptic he sounds.

 _Both_ , replies Changmin only a beat later.

His fingers hover over the keys. He finds himself stuck between _how did you support your hyung for ten years_ and _I admire you so fucking much_. In the end, he sends nothing because he falls asleep before choosing the right words.

-

Still, Jongdae gets his answer two weeks later on Sunday morning while at their morning dance rehearsal. He checks his phone while sipping at a water bottle when he receives Changmin’s text.

 _Yunho-hyung is a nervous mess right now_ , is all it reads.

Jongdae hesitates before calling Joonmyeon even though he knows he’s asleep since EXO K had the morning off. When Joonmyeon answers, Jongdae says, ‘you should go over to Yunho-hyung’s apartment.’

‘’s something wrong?’ slurs out Joonmyeon, and Jongdae can see it clearly in his head – the way Joonmyeon must prop himself on his elbow, blanket falling in a graceless heap on his lap, to glance at the alarm clock next to his bed.

 _You’re a nervous wreck too_ Jongdae wants to say and the thought almost feels like a betrayal. Yet, he knows this will be good for him. Jongdae’s just a singer, just another band member, and Yunho can understand Joonmyeon fundamentally, on some weird hyung-leader wavelength that Jongdae will never reach, nor – perhaps – will Changmin.

‘Nevermind,’ says Joonmyeon, cutting into the silence that’s fallen between them. In the background, Jongdae can hear the rustle of clothes and footsteps as Joonmyeon gets out of bed. ‘Do you think Yunho-hyung likes fish? I should pick some up before I go over.’

‘Yunho-hyung likes anything that comes from you,’ sighs out Jongdae in exasperation.

‘True,’ comes the reply. ‘Before you ask, I promise not to touch precious Changmin-hyung while you’re away.’

Jongdae makes a face at his phone. ‘Good luck even getting him to smile at you,’ he says and hangs up with a quick goodbye. Yifan is calling off the break, so Jongdae shoots off one last text to Changmin: _Joonmyeon-hyung is coming over_ and hopes it’ll get better soon.

-

It’s lunchtime as Yifan announces rather graciously after five hours of dance practice. Luhan is leaning against Minseok and glaring daggers at the duizhang. In the corner with the water bottles, Zitao is whining until Yifan agrees to go to Zitao’s favourite take-out place three blocks down. Yixing stretches his arms and legs once more, helping Jongdae, before nodding towards their sweaters and backpacks. ‘Your phone was lighting up.’

After post-dance stretches, Jongdae checks and sees _I left before he could get there. It’s fucking cold out. You busy?_

 _Getting take-out to eat back at the dorms. EXO M have the afternoon off while EXO K practices_ , replies Jongdae. He pauses, looking back at the rest of the band. _Do you want me to stop by your place?_

Changmin’s apartment is rarely visited when he still almost lives with Yunho on a daily basis. Especially now, when TVXQ rehearsals run late and it’s better to just stick together morning, noon, and night to get everything done on time. Jongdae’s never been there – usually following Joonmyeon to Yunho’s place, which still has traces of Changmin tucked in the corners, screaming of co-habitation despite the new address stamped on Changmin’s driver’s license.

He doesn’t get an answer until they’re all huddled close outside the counter, saying their orders. In his pocket, his phone vibrates with Changmin’s address, and Jongdae orders two meals instead of one to carry in a plastic bag.

‘I’m going off to see Changmin-hyung,’ he tells Yifan, whose shivering behind his oversized scarf.

‘Come back in time for morning preparations,’ he replies, curving an arm around an equally cold Minseok to steal his body heat. Yixing is tucked beside Zitao as they mull over the drink menu with Luhan giving his order to the cashier.

Jongdae waves goodbye to all of them before heading off down the streets, following the map on his phone. True to expectations, Changmin lives in some upscale apartment complex and Jongdae enters the building code for the front door before the blast of warm air from the apartment lobby washes over him as he steps inside.

It’s in the elevator when Jongdae eases up his shoulders, a little warmer and surer of where he stands with Changmin. It’s reassuring – in a way – that even ten years later, Changmin reaches out to him for help with taking care of Yunho-hyung when he feels too stretched thin himself.

The door opens five seconds after Jongdae knocks. Changmin’s hair looks ruffled, the bags under his eyes prominent, and he seems like he hasn’t shaved in a week. The stubble makes him look simultaneously older and younger.

‘You look charming,’ remarks Jongdae when Changmin shuts the door behind them. He gets a poke in the cheek for his snark.

‘As if you look any better. No one wears make-up for dance rehearsal anyway,’ replies Changmin, taking Jongdae’s coat and scarf.

‘I brought lunch,’ says Jongdae as a peace offering. Changmin’s face lights up but it quickly changes to a scowl when Jongdae starts laughing at him.

-

While they eat, Jongdae curls his cold toes around the backs of Changmin’s calves underneath his pajama pants to warm them. Changmin jerks in surprise, but lets him rest there, chewing his rice quietly, before nudging his Jongdae’s feet downwards, in between his own.

They’re playing footsie under the table like they’re twelve year olds, but Jongdae’s stomach clenches with how silent and accepting it. How Changmin doesn’t resist, but invites, even if he can’t _say_ it. It’s nothing like how Yunho showers Joonmyeon in compliments and love and small gifts that seem like the world when Joonmyeon looks at them, but it’s for Jongdae and it’s enough.

Jongdae attempts to hide his smile behind eating his food, but he thinks he’s probably giving it away. It doesn’t matter – not when Changmin lifts the plastic take-out container and silently refills Jongdae’s bowl, his feet curving and warming Jongdae’s toes under the table all the while. What does matter is that, for a little while, Jongdae realizes he doesn’t have to _try_ around Changmin.

‘Thank you,’ he says softly once they’re done eating. Changmin is tossing the dishes in the sink while Jongdae goes off with a damp towel to wipe down the table.

‘I should say that to you,’ snorts Changmin, looking over his shoulder back at Jongdae. ‘I think Yunho-hyung will feel better after this.’

‘Joonmyeon-hyung also needed a break,’ admits Jongdae, cleaning the table. ‘So even hyungs don’t get easier.’

He brings the dishtowel and washes it along with his hands, aware of how Changmin hovers close, his fingers skipping up the line of Jongdae’s spine over the cotton of his loose shirt. ‘No, not even them.’

‘I trained for four months before debut,’ says Jongdae, suddenly feeling impatient as he dries his hands and looks hard at Changmin. It’s important – _imperative_ – that Changmin understand, that Jongdae’s not just a caring friend, that what he does for Joonmyeon is – ‘Joonmyeon-hyung taught me everything. From scratch. Taught me how to dance and entertain, how to be a proper idol in not even one-tenth of the time the others had.’

‘Taught you how to sing,’ adds Changmin quietly, his eyes sympathetic though his mouth is still pulled in a straight line of apathy.

‘Everything,’ repeats Jongdae. ‘Everything I have – he gave to me in a way. So I can never let him down.’ Changmin doesn’t say anything, which is almost a relief. Jongdae stares at his small fingers and the way they curl around the rim of the sink, keeping him steady. ‘Hyung.’

Changmin’s hand presses between Jongdae’s shoulders like a warm stamp of affection. ‘Hm?’

‘I – ’ his voice cuts off, simultaneously mortified and embarrassed by the words on the tip of his tongue.

‘Want a tour of the apartment?’ asks Changmin, so casual and completely incongruous that Jongdae is taken aback for a second, his mind going blank.

‘What?’

Changmin raises his eyebrows, unimpressed, before his hands are sliding over Jongdae’s shoulders and steering him out of the kitchen. Without any particular enthusiasm, Changmin introduces Jongdae to the living room, hall closet, and bathroom before finally nudging him down the hallway. Jongdae makes the appropriate noises at the décor, cleanliness and size, a little disoriented with the entire turnaround of the situation.

Eventually, Changmin pushes open the door at the end of the hall to reveal a bedroom where the mattress takes up most of the space, as well as a dresser, mirror, and adjacent closet. Jongdae laughs when Changmin keeps pushing him before he flails and lands on his side on the bed.

He rolls onto his back, Changmin caging him in with his arms, face so close that Jongdae can count his lashes and how his stubble stretches from his upper lip along his jawline, highlighting his cheekbones.

‘Is this the final stop?’ Jongdae asks, amused, eyes wide and watching. His stomach feels tight with anticipation when Changmin’s eyes keep flicking over him as if uncertain on how to reply. ‘Changmin-hyung.’

The call seems to rouse Changmin, who exhales noisily, mouth pressed tight. ‘You,’ he starts, voice low and serious. ‘You’re not just nervous about being perfect.’ It’s said as a statement, and Jongdae can’t refute it, but Changmin _continues_ and Jongdae can’t help but flinch when – ‘You’re nervous Yunho-hyung will replace you in Joonmyeon’s life.’

It’s unfair – so fucking _unfair_ – when this hyung that Jongdae has known for a few months can already carve him open and read him as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. He wants to say that it’s not true, that his insecurities don’t exist, that Joonmyeon is simply everything and Jongdae will be damned if he can’t help Joonmyeon through anything –

 – but Yunho can. Jongdae’s jaw clenches tight and Changmin’s expression relaxes when he realizes he’s hit the mark, eyes warm with feeling as he dips his face down to trace over Jongdae’s lips lightly with his own.

With a muffled whimper, Jongdae opens up, meeting the warm slide of Changmin’s tongue with his own. The kiss is slow and wet, Changmin still hovering above him, Jongdae’s hands gripping the collar of Changmin’s shirt loosely.

A breath later and they part. Jongdae feels horribly exposed, like he’s been cut open, leaving a hopeless, yawning hole in the pit of his stomach. ‘What the fuck do I do, hyung.’

Changmin dips down, kisses Jongdae’s cheek, the line of his jaw, nipping at his earlobe. Involuntarily, Jongdae arches at the tingling touches, feeling Changmin’s voice rumble down his spine: ‘you let it happen.’

‘That’s not – !’ snaps Jongdae, except his voice cuts off when Changmin sinks his teeth into the skin of his neck.

‘I’m not done talking,’ says Changmin, voice dropping into a growl. Jongdae feels his cock twitch and responds with sliding his hands around Changmin’s shoulders, head tipped back with his throat on display, knowing Changmin will fall for it. There’s a muffled, ‘fuck,’ before Jongdae arches as Changmin licks a wet, hot stripe up his neck, scraping his teeth over Jongdae’s adam’s apple.

‘I’m – ah – waiting,’ says Jongdae, embarrassingly breathless with how Changmin works over his neck, sending jolts of arousal down his spine to make his cock rise up in his jeans.

‘You think Yunho only has me, hm?’ Changmin’s stubble prickles as his mouth moves onto the slice of Jongdae’s collarbone exposed over his shirt collar. ‘You think he’s my only one?’

‘He _loves_ you,’ reminds Jongdae in a gasp when Changmin moves one of his hands to wrench the hem of his shirt to bunch up at Jongdae’s neck. Soon, there’s a tongue on the bare skin of Jongdae’s torso, laving around a nipple until it pebbles with the cool air and sheer arousal.

‘So he’ll always come back,’ says Changmin, and the succinctness of it punches the breath out of Jongdae’s lungs.

Using his grip on Changmin’s shirt collar, Jongdae raises himself up and buries his face in the crook of Changmin’s neck, mouth hot and wet against the skin as he leaves kisses in a trail upwards. ‘He better give Joonmyeon-hyung back.’

‘Or what?’ Changmin grips Jongdae’s hips and rolls himself onto his back on the bed, letting the other straddle his abdomen. ‘You’re going to fuck him up like I do to you?’

Jongdae stares at Changmin, a threat and acquiesce in his voice all at once. ‘Yunho-hyung can fill in for what I can’t, but Joonmyeon-hyung is mine.’

‘And Yunho-hyung is mine,’ replies Changmin, the grip on Jongdae’s hips tightening as he forces Jongdae to grind down on his half-hard cock. Jongdae moans at the strength of it, his hands skittering down Changmin’s torso to tug at the hem of his shirt.

‘So what does that make me,’ he gasps out, hips rocking to Changmin’s rhythm as his nails score red lines down Changmin’s stomach underneath his shirt.

Changmin replies by rolling them over again. Jongdae’s back hits the bed, and there’s one hand palming his cock, another at his neck, tipping his chin up so he looks into the glittering, fierce eyes of Changmin, unable to escape. ‘You should know, Jongdae-ah, you’re also mine.’

Jongdae moans at the possessiveness, lets it warm his skin, his body going slack with how much he fucking _wants_. ‘So show me, hyung,’ he says breathlessly, ‘fuck me.’

The words have an instantaneous effect. Changmin immediately strips off his shirt, mussing his hair, all disheveled with his bright, pupil-blown eyes and wet mouth – all because of Jongdae. He feels a rush of pride at the sight and takes off his own shirt, tossing it over the side of the bed.

He groans when Changmin palms his cock again and tries to unzip his jeans. His hips are arching off the bed, goading Changmin, who growls and pushes him back down with the weight of his body. Jongdae’s just short of breathless when Changmin takes his wrists and pins them above his head while he kisses Jongdae, his legs heavy as he straddles Jongdae’s thighs.

The kiss isn’t that languid, wet slide anymore – Jongdae opens up, lets the taste of his lunch be replaced with Changmin, and tries to grind upwards against Changmin’s leg to relieve his now hard dick. Changmin’s tongue is reacquainting itself with the planes of Jongdae’s mouth with avid curiosity, a groan rumbling up his spine to pour itself down Jongdae’s throat as Jongdae becomes aware of the hot, heavy line of Changmin’s cock against his thigh.

When they run out of air, Changmin litters nipping kisses all down Jongdae’s jawline and neck, using his weight to feel each twitch and writhe as Jongdae gives in to the arousal swamping his senses.

‘Hyung,’ gasps out Jongdae when Changmin bites at his nipple, ‘fu- _uck_ – ’ He wants to remind Changmin that he promised to fuck him, but Jongdae’s having difficulty breathing, much less talking. It’s the way Changmin is intent on using him up, keeping him still and steady until Changmin was ready himself.

‘Still so fuckin’ responsive,’ says Changmin, sounding pleased. Jongdae muffles another moan – he can’t help it. It’s the way Changmin plays his body like an instrument, knows how Jongdae wants to be held down and fucked up by someone bigger, someone stronger – all his thoughts whited out under a tsunami of pleasure.

Instead, Jongdae bucks his hips up even if his wrists are still pressed to the sheets and tries to grind up against Changmin. Changmin pauses and lets go of Jongdae’s arms to work at Jongdae’s pants again. Jongdae cards his now free fingers through Changmin’s hair, feels how it’s a little rough from everything Changmin’s done to it – dyes and bleaches and product – and idly wonders when it will be the same for him.

Eventually, Changmin slides the waistband of Jongdae’s pants down his hips and Jongdae helpfully kicks them off entirely. A beat later, and his underwear goes next – leaving Jongdae naked and spread out over Changmin’s bedsheets, his cock hard and leaking, his body painted with a red flush of desire.

‘You’re so small,’ murmurs Changmin appreciatively, splaying out one of his hands over Jongdae’s stomach like he can envelop Jongdae entirely into his palm. The words make Jongdae’s breath stutter, his dick twitching.

‘You going to break me?’ challenges Jongdae, wanting it more than anything. He almost pouts when Changmin pushes off the bed entirely, but it’s to strip. Quickly, the long lines of Changmin’s body are revealed, strung together with ropes of muscle and a light dusting of hair from navel to the base of his cock. Even though it feels like an eternity since Jongdae has touched the other, he can still remember what it felt like – his hole stretched and smoothed out around Changmin’s dick, worked open till he was loose and begging for it, feeling himself twitch when he leaked Changmin’s come afterwards.

Changmin almost rips out the drawer entirely out of the bedside table looking for lube, so Jongdae decides to make a show for him when he rolls onto his stomach and knees, ass cocked upwards. He slicks one finger up with spit and reaches back to let it slide inside of himself as his other hand tugs at his heavy sack – all up on filthy display as Jongdae looks over his shoulder to revel in the reaction.

There’s a muffled noise as Changmin finds the tube of lube in the bottom drawer of the bedside table and he turns to take in the sight. Jongdae wants to laugh at how Changmin’s lust is so open and easy to read – the way his mouth drops open as he inhales sharply before his expression slinks back into predatory, eyes narrowed and appraising.

‘Without me even asking?’ he remarks, obviously pleased as he watches Jongdae screw back on his own finger slow and steady.

‘Just – _uhn_ – doing the work for you,’ replies Jongdae, unwilling to resist such good bait. ‘In case you forgot how to fuck.’

‘Brat,’ snaps Changmin, who’s amused more than anything. He slicks up his hand and settles behind Jongdae’s ass, gaze focused when he bats away Jongdae’s finger to slide in his own. The lube is cold and his body ripples with the sensation before he’s already rocking back, canting his hips to draw Changmin in deeper.

‘Fuck,’ gasps out Jongdae when Changmin stuffs two fingers into him, which quickly becomes three as the lube is used up and everything is a little messier and wet. His cock is drooling a puddle of precome underneath of him, and his nails are clenched into the sheets as he tries to keep himself together.

Except Changmin slides the pads of his fingers over Jongdae’s prostate and the resulting shot of arousal has his body shaking, anticipation ratcheting up his spine while he focuses on how to remember to breathe again.

‘Want you on your back,’ he hears Changmin rasp, the lust leaking out between his syllables. Jongdae disobeys and doesn’t move a muscle – just to feel the bruising force of Changmin’s fingers on his hips, flipping him over and shoving him into the middle of the bed. Involuntarily, Jongdae lets his hand flutter up to his neck, feel the blooming marks over his collarbone, how he’ll wear collars and scarves if it means stripping in the bathroom to see the marks of Changmin’s adoration on his skin.

‘Want to stare into my eyes as we fuck?’ mocks Jongdae when Changmin settles between his thighs, slicking up his cock with the remnants of the lube. ‘How romantic, Changminnie-hyung.’

Changmin’s eyes flash towards him and Jongdae feels overwhelmed, especially when Changmin uses his hands on either side of Jongdae’s head to cage him in, dipping to kiss him gently before biting down on his bottom lip until it risks bleeding. Jongdae arches and groans until Changmin lets go. His voice is rough and wrecked when he says, ‘I’m going to make you sing for me.’

Just as Changmin knows Jongdae’s desire, Jongdae curls his mouth in a half-smile, understanding what Changmin wants. Without a moment’s pause, he lifts his arms to hook around Changmin’s shoulders, nails skimming lightly over the skin and sensing the shiver that it causes.

Jongdae feels his legs push up towards his chest, the backs of his knees settled in the crook of Changmin’s elbows as he guides the tip of his cock inside of Jongdae. The stretch burns at first and then settles to a dull ache when Changmin has seated himself, his balls a tattoo of heat against the back of Jongdae’s ass. He tries to breathe and his nails dig into Changmin’s skin, all his muscles clenched together before eventually relaxing out again.

‘How badly do you want it, Jongdae?’ asks Changmin in a rush, voice mocking but strung tight with arousal. Jongdae swallows, tries to wet his dry mouth, as his ass gets split over Changmin’s cock – longer and hotter than he remembered.

‘As much as you,’ he shoots back, reveling in Changmin’s amusement that blended so well with his want. He thinks he’s going to get a reply, but Changmin doesn’t say anything, just pulls his hips back and rocks forward, again, and again.

He builds up the momentum too fast for Jongdae to keep up, who leaves long scratches all over Changmin’s skin as he keeps arching and clawing out his desire, written in the red lines that will be visible when this is over. Maybe he’ll make Changmin bleed again – but right now, Jongdae’s mind is too shot as Changmin’s cock opens him up and fucks him deep and good.

His back feels like it’s going to be permanently bowed as he arches and arches, his hips canted downwards to keep Changmin’s dick inside of him as they fuck. On his back, Jongdae can see the way Changmin’s face is slack with pleasure, his lashes damp with sweat and the way his neck strains as he fucks Jongdae steadily, keeping himself controlled.

Jongdae doesn’t need to have control – he lets go, grips onto Changmin’s shoulders and writhes for more, keeps trying to fuck himself hard and fast on Changmin’s cock even if he can’t really dictate the pace like this. He tangles his fingers into Changmin’s hair and tugs him down, feels the prickle of stubble against his own skin as he kisses Changmin wet and messy.

The angle of the kiss makes Changmin’s hips ramp up and the head of his cock hits Jongdae’s prostate, making Jongdae groan out – loud and unabashed. ‘Yeah – oh, fuck – hyung – ’

The kiss breaks and Jongdae gets fucked a little quicker, but Changmin’s knees slip in their sweat and the angle is lost. Frustrated at the sudden loss, Jongdae tries to shift his own hips, but Changmin – wonderful, smart Changmin – figures him out.

He unhooks an arm from under Jongdae’s knee and leans over Jongdae completely to grip the edge of the headboard. ‘Here,’ he growls out, and Jongdae keens from within his throat when his other leg is pushed even further against his chest.

That’s when Changmin fucks him all glorious and messy – uses the headboard to ram into Jongdae completely, and Jongdae’s wail is lost in his own throat when he loses it. His cock is leaking and untouched, but he focuses on how Changmin ruins him inside out, uses his dick to get Jongdae all loose and warm and open around him.

Jongdae keeps a tight grip on Changmin’s shoulders, but each thrust is pitching him up the bed more and more as Changmin finds his rhythm and uses it to break Jongdae. Jongdae lets go of one hand and slams it against the headboard, palm first, pushing back against the force of Changmin’s fucking.

‘More,’ begs Jongdae, appalled that he breaks so early but everything is strung tight and making his head all white noise and he wants this to never stop, ‘hyung – fuck – give me more – ’

‘Hold on,’ groans Changmin, and hooks one of Jongdae’s leg over his shoulder before rocking into the body underneath. Knee almost touching his chest, Jongdae yells out as Changmin’s cock finds his prostate again, his arm shaking and straining, his other hand leaving red half-moons over Changmin’s shoulder.

Jongdae uses his free leg to plant his foot on the sheets and push forward, his hips canting up and Changmin rasps out a ‘oh fuck – Jongdae – ’ when his cock grinds against the rim of Jongdae’s stretched hole.

The fucking gets rougher and harder, with Jongdae’s body arched to take in all of Changmin’s cock and try to keep it inside of him, loving the burn and heat of it and how it feels like all his neurons have fired at once, his entire body tingling and hyperaware. Above him, Changmin is panting, mouth twisted, the sheen on his cheekbones making his expression almost animalistic as he loses control in steady increments.

Jongdae wonders if he could come like this – just from Changmin opening his hole up with thick, hard cock and nothing else. Just from the sound of Changmin’s balls slapping against the back of Jongdae’s ass, the low-octave groans spilled out between that generous mouth, the gasped, keening moans from Jongdae’s own.

For right now, he keeps his body bowed, nails certainly injuring Changmin’s skin now as he holds on. The arm keeping him from hitting the headboard is strained and shaking as he is fucked into over and over again. Changmin’s grip on the back of his thigh is going to bruise wonderfully in the next few hours – the pain rerouting in Jongdae’s body so his flushed cock spits out more precome.

The bed is rocking with them, and Jongdae doesn’t think sex will get better than this – the intensity and force of Changmin’s body reaming into his and how filthy, hot, dirty messy it all is. With another sound, Jongdae clenches his ass to savour the long line of Changmin’s cock as it slides out of him and hear how Changmin says his name like a curse, before slamming right back into him, knocking against his prostate – one, two, three.

‘Hyu – ah – _hah_ – hyung,’ begs Jongdae, except he’s not sure for what, but Changmin’s eyes are on him, glittering and dark. Everything is building up, meshing together, into a some glorious feeling and Jongdae feels himself shaking with it. Changmin’s going to break him, just like this, and he can’t fucking wait – just needed a little – more –

‘Remember this,’ snarls out Changmin instead, his voice completely wrecked. Beneath Changmin’s gaze, Jongdae feels split open, his insecurities exposed like shards of glass under a light, but Changmin takes him in, with a raspy, ‘you’re fuckin’ _mine_ ,’ and Jongdae lets the words wash over him in all its possessive, domineering glory –

‘Changmin- _ah_ – ’ moans out Jongdae in reply, and feels his arousal peak as Changmin accentuates his point with one reaming thrust after another. ‘Oh fuck – oh – god – ’ The thrusts don’t stop, the thick cock inside of him knocking over and over against his prostate, but it’s the look and the words and how Changmin feels like he _owns_ Jongdae in all his imperfections as he hovers over him that does Jongdae in completely.

Jongdae’s cock twitches and he comes untouched, pulsing out ropes of warm semen all over his own stomach. Vaguely he can hear his own voice – how he loses it and _wails_ at his own orgasm, the sound making Changmin’s expression light up with adoration. His entire body clenches tight and Changmin gasps out before he’s grinding hard into Jongdae’s ass to feel his cock get milked. Jongdae feels his body stiffen and unwind in a series of aftershocks while his cock keeps spilling out come.

Unwilling to stop, Changmin fucks him through it, cock pressed hot against inside of him so Jongdae’s own dick keeps twitching and dribbling the remnants of his spunk out until his body has to collapse in fatigue against the sheets, every muscle now pliant.

‘Fuck – _ah_ – c-come in me,’ gasps out Jongdae before he gives up on words, letting himself get used up for Changmin’s pleasure, who keeps grinding deep inside of him, using the tightness and heat of it to stroke his cock until he’s close to the edge as well.

With three final thrusts, Changmin shudders violently, Jongdae’s name slipping from his mouth in a breathless gasp before he finally empties himself into Jongdae’s hole, filling it up with come. Jongdae’s body shivers at the feeling of warmth and clenches his ass tight to keep it all inside when Changmin finally withdraws his softening cock.

He collapses to Jongdae’s side, letting go of Jongdae’s leg and the headboard. Relaxed and sated, Jongdae lazes on the sheets, his entire body flat against the mattress as he stares blearily up at the white ceiling. Distantly he can hear Changmin getting up and shuffling around, and soon there are hands sliding up his thighs and around his hips.

‘Have to clean you up,’ murmurs Changmin from above. Jongdae lets himself be cared for like this – wiped down until there’s no more come on his soft cock and stomach, even flipped to his stomach to get the backs of his thighs and ass. He’s turned over onto his back once more after Changmin is done. There’s minute where Jongdae hears footsteps and running water but he’s too exhausted to get up.

Finally, Changmin’s face comes back into view when he sits at the edge of the bed looking down at him. Jongdae stares up at him, words on his tongue but no energy to say them. His mouth feels swollen and his eyes are wide and searching, amazed by how warm Changmin can make him feel, how completely at ease.

Evenutally, Jongdae settles with a slightly slurred, ‘thank you,’ meaning far more than the sex, and Changmin seems to understand. He brushes back Jongdae’s hair, unsticking it from his forehead, eyes soft when he looks down at Jongdae. Jongdae swallows, ‘you should sleep – come on.’

Without saying a word, Changmin gathers Jongdae up in his arms – as small as can be – and fits them both under the sheets, which is as good an answer as any.

-

It’s evening when Jongdae wakes up and decides he needs to go back to the dorms. Except he keeps lying in bed, watching the long length of Changmin’s bare back as Changmin sits on the edge to pull on his pants.

Reaching out, Jongdae skims his fingers over the scratches he’s left over Changmin’s shoulders – some even scabbed over and others most certainly stinging. ‘You like this,’ he says, teasing.

Changmin looks over his shoulder back at him, eyebrow raised. ‘Like what, you brat?’

Jongdae meets his gaze, eyes glittering. ‘My mark on you.’

‘Yunho kept offering me first aid last time.’

‘So I should stop,’ says Jongdae.

Changmin stands up then to shimmy back into his jeans, his face obscured. ‘I never said that,’ he replies and Jongdae falls back on the bed, laughter caught in his throat.

-

All of his feelings come to a head just a week after the New Year’s. The entirety of EXO are clustered in the backroom of Inkigayo, Minseok and Luhan pressed against each other with red Cassiopeia fanclub balloons clutched in their hands.

Jongdae keeps close to Joonmyeon, who had returned from his day with Yunho-hyung looking infinitely better, some of the tension from his shoulders having dissipated in the last few hours. Of course, it’s come back by now, but for the height of their Christmas promotions, Joonmyeon hadn’t felt as high-strung as usual, and Jongdae knew Yunho-hyung was good for Joonmyeon.

Now, both Yunho and Changmin are fierce-eyed and tight-lipped, their microphones curving towards their mouths and suits drawn onto them in wrinkle-free perfection. There’s an electric tension between the two of them that Jongdae has known for a while now – it’s the same feeling before EXO’s own live shows, when Joonmyeon has them all gathered around for final preparations and pep talk.

Instead, he stands there, watching and listening, itching to reach out and touch Changmin’s arm, tell him that they have been doing this for ten years, that they were as close to perfection as an idol could be, that Changmin had a voice and control over his body that Jongdae still dreamed of achieving so everything was going to be absolutely fucking _fine_.

It won’t work, of course, because Yunho looks at Changmin with expectations and Jongdae is the same. He curves a hand around Joonmyeon’s wrist, tipping his mouth close to his hyung’s ear. ‘They’re nervous.’

Joonmyeon lets out a small laugh, turning his head to nudge Jongdae’s cheek with his nose. ‘And you are too – for them.’

Jongdae considers denying it, but Joonmyeon can see through him like he’s transparent and it would be unfair if Jongdae couldn’t do the same.

‘Go talk to Yunho-hyung,’ says Joonmyeon. ‘And I’ll take Changmin.’

Jongdae stares at him, feeling a little bewildered at how easily Joonmyeon can read them and compartmentalize their feelings to match one another up. Joonmyeon is right, of course – Jongdae hasn’t talked to Yunho about anything important one-on-one, and they have nothing to offer nor take away from one another. He can ease Yunho, the way Changmin can’t, the way Joonmyeon can’t.

So when Yunho fixes his microphone, greeting EXO slightly distracted, Jongdae sidles up to him while Changmin furrows his brow at the sight, looking over at Joonmyeon. One step, then two, and Jongdae sees how Joonmyeon draws up a smile over his face and begins a conversation about what Jongdae suspects is nothing.

Yunho looks at him, a little uncertain, and Jongdae smiles back, bright and supportive. ‘You look good.’ It’s enough for Yunho – who sees Jongdae as small and sincere – and his shoulders drop down just a little bit.

‘Thank you,’ replies Yunho warmly, a hand reaching out to rest at Jongdae’s back. Jongdae leans into the touch, feeling Yunho rub his spine through the sweater. Yunho tips his head forward, talks about nothing and everything with the other EXO members that watch on, but the touch never leaves – a comforting weight, physicality Yunho’s way of easing his own nervousness.

Jongdae likes to think that by the time Yunho and Changmin are ushered away that they feel a little bit better, a little less anxious. Before leaving, Joonmyeon nods to Changmin, who manages to quirk a smile in return, while Yunho cups the back of Jongdae’s neck as he says his thanks once more.

The performance goes without a hitch, their live voices not wavering in the slightest, the choreography quick and on point, lights, cameras, music – all surging upwards to a crescendo of perfection that leaves Jongdae’s heart in his throat and Joonmyeon’s eyes wide.

After it’s over, Jongdae curls his hand around Joonmyeon’s and squeezes. ‘If they can, we can.’

Joonmyeon nods, ‘yes.’ He looks straight into Jongdae’s eyes and smiles. ‘ _We_ can.’ It makes Jongdae’s chest loosen up, and he’s watching Joonmyeon’s face when he smiles back, taking his first unhindered breath after a long while.

-

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!!


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